


Adrial

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, movie-based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By T. Baggins.
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 2
Collections: Least Expected





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of these hobbitses belongs to me. I just plays with them, my pecious  
>  Story Notes: Nervous author seeks feedback

"....and he felt a pain like a dart of poisoned ice pierce his left shoulder. Even as he swooned he caught, as if through a swirling mist, a glimpse of Strider leaping out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand....." from The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. 

With some effort he yanked the Ring from his finger, falling back with a cry of pain. Then a wave dizziness and nausea, and the world winked out.......... 

Strider stood alone on top of the hill, sword in hand. There were four short swords lying upon the ground. Four small bedrolls scattered about. There were no Hobbits. There was no Ringbearer. No Ring. "Sam!" he called out, "Merry! Pippin! FRODO!" There was no answer. No sign. It was as if the Halflings had disappeared off the face of Middle Earth. 
    
    
                    Merry was dreaming a very strange dream.  He was lying in a very uncomfortable bed that was way too big.  Above him was a smooth, flat, white roof supported by smooth flat white walls.  Light was shining, but there were no windows, no candles. He was covered with a blanket that shimmered like moonlight on the river.  He sat up slowly and looked around.  There was Pippin, fast asleep in a similar bed.  And there was Sam, also fast asleep.  And Frodo, muttering and moaning in his sleep.  Merry stood and went to his cousin.  "Frodo?  Frodo?"  he touched Frodo's hand and found it cold.  He thought he should get some help, but there was not even a door.  "Where are we?  Is this Rivendell?  Where is Strider?"  Part of a wall slid away with a soft hiss.  Merry squeaked and backed away until he bumped into Pippin's bed.  He could not comprehend the creature that stood before him.  A cat that looked like a woman?  A woman that looked like a cat?  She stepped in.  Behind her was a Man, about Strider's height.  But, not Strider.  He was dressed in black leather and had yellow eyes.  His voice was soft and kind, "You see, Retha?  What did I tell you?"
                    Retha hissed softly, "Fool!  These are not Omnies!  We must return them!"
                    The Man shook his head, "We're parsecs away and the Navcom's off line.  We'd never find that planet if we searched for a millennia!  Besides, they look enough like Omnies, maybe enough to fool old Boreas?  We'll say we found this `research team' in trouble and rescued them.  Perhaps he'll even reward us?"
                    "Graza, you are a fool!  But, I see no other way, other than killing them." She held up a hand, unsheathing long curved claws, "One swipe at those soft bellies."
                    Merry groaned.
                    Retha smiled and sheathed her claws, "Do not fear, little one, you are worth more alive than dead."
                    And Merry fell over in a dead faint.
    
    
    
                    "They aren't Omnies."  a voice said.
                    Merry kept his eyes shut.
                    "They look like us, doctor."  female voice above and to the right
                    "At first glance maybe."  male voice, the doctor, above to the left, "But, there are several anatomical differences.  For instance:  the feet.  See the soles of their feet?  Quite leathery, fit for traveling on bare ground.  Not soft like ours. And the distribution of body hair is quite different.  I won't even go into the bioanylasis.  Or their mentality or their emotional responses.  Quite amazing really."
                    "Yes, doctor."  female voice sounded amused.
                    "And!  From the look of their clothing they come from a Class 5K planet with an industrial scale of at least 3.5.  I wish we could keep them for further study."  male voice sounded upset. "Unfortunately, they're being transferred to the crown this evening.  I tried to talk the palace representative into letting us keep just one for research.  She wouldn't listen."
                    "Dr. Greenstar, please come to BioLab 12.  Dr. Greenstar to BioLab 12, please."  odd sounding voice directly overhead.  
                    "Damn!  Get started on that blood work, Gemma, and be sure to get a DNA reading on all four."  male voice fading away.  A hissing noise.  
                    Female voice sighing, "Yes, doctor."  
                    Merry opened his eyes slightly, just enough to see what looked like a hobbit lass bending over Sam.  She was dressed strangely and was doing something to Sam's arm.  "Here!  What are you doing to him!"  Merry shouted.
                    The lass, Gemma, gasped and whirled around, "Oh, Adrial!  Oh! No!"  She covered the distance between herself and Merry in a heartbeat and pressed something hard and cold against his arm.  "I knew I should have used a higher dose..."  Were the last words Merry heard.
    
    
    
                    Frodo moaned as he came out of the haze into reality.  Or was it reality?  He was lying on a most comfortable bed, covered with a soft blanket.  Was this Rivendell?  His vision began to clear and he looked around.  The room he was in was large and very strange.  He could hear some sort of chirping sounds above his head, but could not see the bird making them.  As his mind cleared he realized he was naked beneath the covers.  Fear gripped him, The Ring!  The Ring had been in his waistcoat pocket!  Where was it?  Where!  He sat up suddenly and his head swam.  The Ring!  Where is the Ring?  Head spinning, he sprung out of the bed  and promptly fell to the floor.
                    Dizzy and sick to his stomach, unable to move, he groaned in dispair.  And was answered by a soft hiss.  Looking to his right he saw a pair of feet.  The feet of a Hobbit, but not those of any of his friends.  A gentle hand, not Sam's,  touched his arm and an equally gentle voice said, "Easy, lad, you'll feel better in a second."  There were three little clicking noises.  Something hard and cold pressed against his upper arm.  hissss.
    Vision cleared.  Mind cleared. Stomach righted itself and the room stopped spinning.  The gentle hands helped him sit up.  
                    Frodo found himself gazing into the face of another Hobbit.  The strange Hobbit was smiling, his gray eyes soft and concerned.  Long black hair fell in waves over his shoulders, and was touched with gray at the temples.  He helped Frodo to stand and sit on the bed again,  "Better?"
                    "Yes, thank you."  Frodo's head was full of questions, but only one needed answering immediately: The Ring.  "Were are my clothes?  The ones I was wearing?"
                    "Probably in a museum by now, or in the sanitizer.  But, here,"  the hobbit dipped into his coat pocket, "they figured you'd want this back."  And he handed Frodo the Ring.  It was now on a  gold chain and Frodo slipped it on.
                    "Again, thank you, Mr?"
                    The hobbit put on a face of mock solemnity, "I am Dr.Apollo Moongold, personal physician to his most sovereign majesty, King Boreas the Tenth.  You are in his palace and under his protection and keeping."
                    Frodo drew himself up to his most formal bearing, "I am Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo, of the Shire. Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Moongold."
                    "That's Dr. Apollo, son, or just Doc will do.  I'm sure you have a millennia's worth of questions.  Maybe, though, you'd like to be reunited with your companions?  There is clothing for you in that  box.  Join us when you're ready."  Apollo grinned and walked towards the round door.  Which magically slid aside to let him leave.
                    For a long while Frodo just sat there staring wide eyed at the "magic door" and fingering the Ring.
                    The door slid open again a few minutes later and Sam stepped in the room.  He looked like Sam anyway.  His clothing was odd.  A loose tunic of green that fell about mid thigh, belted with a silver chain.  Breeches that hugged the contours of his legs with  liquid  cloth.  They were too long, way down to his feet and gathered there in soft folds.  "Mr. Frodo?"  he said, a look of concern on his face. "Are you all right, sir?"
                    Frodo said nothing, just stared.
                    Sam took a deep breath, "Dr. Apollo said you may be in shock, Mr. Frodo.  Are you, sir?  I'm that worried, you know."
                    "I'm   all right."  Frodo whispered.
                    "Well, either way, you'll feel better as soon's you have some food and drink and see the sun."  Sam went to the box and opened it, "She's just as beautiful and warm here as at home, sir."  he drew out some   blue and gold cloth, "But, the sky!  The sky is a kinda bluish lavender!  Never seen such a sight in all my days, Mr. Frodo.  Here, sir.  It's a shirt.  Please, put it on."
                    Frodo obeyed.  Then drew the long breeches on.  Both garments were shades of blue.  Sam slipped the gold chain belt around his master's waist and fastened it.                  "I know these clothes are odd, master, but they cover what should be covered.  Please, come outside, sir?  It looks to be  Spring what with all the flowers and all.  There's a garden out there, a huge garden!  So many lovely flowers!  And the grass is so green!  And the trees so tall and graceful.  I ain't never seen the like of it!  Merry and Pippin are outside.  The doctor is waiting, too.  Please, come?"
                    Frodo just stood there.
                    "Please, master?"  Sam held out his hand.
                    "it's not real."  Frodo whispered.
                    "It is real, Mr. Frodo, and it's beautiful."  Sam smiled at him.
                    Frodo, at last, took Sam's hand and allowed himself to be led out of the little room.  They stepped into another room, much bigger than the first.  Sam led the way through it as if he'd lived here all his life.  They saw no one else.  
                    Finally, they came to a large wall of what appeared to be glass.  A huge window.  Sam stepped up to it, "Don't be scared, Mr. Frodo.  I was at first, but there's naught to be afraid of.  Just feels sorta funny the first time."  and Sam gently tugged Frodo towards the window and they went right through it.  Right through it!  It didn't shatter and cut them like glass would.  It felt as if they were walking under a waterfall without the water.                   Frodo stared back at it as Sam led him along a stone path.  
                    "Ah!  Frodo!"  Apollo stood up, smiling welcome, "I was beginning to worry.  Here."  he poured a draught of some blue liquid into a small delicate glass, "Drink."
                    Frodo looked at the glass and shook his head, backing away.
                    Sam caught his hand, "It's all right, Mr. Frodo.  Just  juice, it is.  Tastes like fresh raspberries.  Just a sip?  For me?"  He took the glass from Apollo and offered it to his master with a reassuring smile. 
                    Frodo took the glass and sipped it.  It was very good indeed and he drained it.  "Thank you."  he said, "I'm sorry, I'm just afraid..."
                    The doctor laughed softly, "My dear Frodo!  You have every right and reason to be afraid!  Believe me, if some brain dead space pirate yanked me off my world and dumped me in yours, I'd be utterly terrified!  But, you must see the necessity to eat and drink and try to stay in reasonable health?  I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll go slow.  Culture shock is not a pleasant thing to have to go through."  The doctor's eyes darted to the left, "Sam, why don't you show Frodo the Rose Garden?"
                    "Thank you, but I'd rather just here for a bit."  Frodo said softly.  He sat down at the table and sighed.
                    Apollo looked nervous, "As you wish."
                    Just at that moment a young woman came round the hedge wheeling a shiny metal cart.  The aroma from it was unmistakably luncheon, or at least elevenses.  Frodo raised his head and glanced at her.  Her face turned white, as if she'd seen a ghost.  She raised her hand to her chest, much as Frodo himself did when the Ring was troubling him.  Then turned and ran.
                    Apollo shook his head, "Oh, well, can't be helped.  At least she's only a servant."   Then he called out, "Merry!  Pippin!  Let's eat!"  and started un loading the cart.  Frodo and Sam just looked at each other.
                    Merry and Pippin came running round the hedge and fell into chairs.  
                    "What time is it?"  Pippin asked breathlessly.
                    Merry laughed, "Time to eat, you twit."
                    Apollo was smiling, "It's the thirteenth hour, Pippin, and we call this Middies, or Mid-day." He handed Pippin a plate.
                    Soon they were all enjoying a very nice meal.  Foods that Apollo had chosen not necessarily for nutritional value, but for firmiliarity to the hobbits.  Plain roast chicken, vegetables, potatoes and dark bread.  Water and fruit juice to drink.  Nothing stronger.  Not with the tranquilizers.  
                    Three hobbits laughing and talking about all they had seen, which wasn't much, and asking questions.  Apollo leaned over, "Eat, Frodo.  Please."
                    Sam turned to face his master, "You gotta eat, sir."
                    Frodo looked at Sam, "I, I'll try, Sam."   He picked up his fork and took a bit of potato.  Nibbling off only a small taste.  It was good really. Fresh and hot and buttery.  He smiled, "It's very good."   He ate hartilly after that, and drank several glasses.  
                    Apollo relaxed.  They were all eating.  New foods would be introduced.  But, gradually.  He poured himself another glass of juice and said casually, "What is it your people call themselves?"
                    "Hobbits."  Merry answered.
                    Apollo nodded, "We call ourselves Omnies."
                    "Omnies."  Merry repeated.
                    "In name of our planet, or world, Omicron7Delta." Apollo smiled. "What is your world called?"
                    Frodo blinked, "Middle Earth, I suppose. "
                    "We're from The Shire, sir."  Sam said with pride.
                    "The Shire is your country?"
                    "I suppose you could say that."
                    " We have no countries, just  districts."
                    "No countries?"  Pippin asked., "aren't there Men and Elves and such?"
                    "No, Pippin, just us.  Just Omnies."
                    Sam looked astonished, "Imagine, Mr. Frodo, a whole world of nothin but hobbits!"
                    Frodo put his glass down and looked Apollo in the eyes, "Doctor, when can we go home?"
                    Apollo lost his smile, "I cannot answer that, Frodo."
                    "Who can, then?"  Sam asked
                    Apollo stood, "I cannot say.."
    
    
    
                    The hobbits were let alone for the rest of the afternoon.  Apollo went back inside to "tend to some business".  Merry and Pippin ran off together, holding hands.  Frodo wondered  what sort of mischief they would find.  He needn't wait long, for soon excited cries of "Frodo!  Sam!  C'mere!  Hurry!  You gotta see this! "
                    Frodo followed the shouts.  Sam followed his master.  They found the younger hobbits by a fountain, clutching each other.  Both wore looks of terror mixed with amazement as they pointed up and over Frodo's shoulder.
                    "Look!"  Pippin nearly screamed.
                    Frodo turned around to look behind.
                    It looked like it was made of ice and snow, so smooth and glittering it was.  Tall towers rose at seemingly random points.  The towers were topped with what appeared to the hobbits to be gold filigree.  Beyond this magnificent building rose huge mountains made blue by the clouds.  
                    The Palace.  
                    The sound of hoofbeats ended their contemplation of the building.  Instinctively, Sam, Merry, and Pippin gathered round Frodo.  Frodo's hand went to the Ring as the rider approached.  
                    It was another Omnie.  This one quite young, maybe even younger than Pippin.  He was dressed in gold and red, his brown hair just brushing his shoulders.  His eyes were icy blue.  He reined in his mount, a pony in size but a horse in appearance.  Long legged, pure white with a flowing mane and tail, fitted out in gold and black.  The young man looked the hobbits over, then spurred his mount on.  
                    Frodo was the first to speak, "Let's head back."
    
    
    
                    They returned to the big window and, with little hesitation, walked thru it. Apollo was bent over a black shiny counter top, tapping it occasionally.  When the hobbits entered, he looked up and smiled, "Just in time."
                    "In time for what?"  Merry asked.
                    "Time to come in."  the doctor said, "Almost time for the  fifteen's thunderstorm."  he pointed outside.  Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering.
                    "Is that East or West?"  Sam asked.
                    "Neither, it's South.  The sun rises in the North and sets in the South."  Apollo said absently returning to his contemplation of the countertop.   He looked up again, "I'm sorry, fellas, this report has got my brain fogged.  Anystar, I've made arrangements for you all to be together.  Come on, I'll show you your new quarters."
    He started leading them through the large room, "This is my Sick Bay"
                    "Sick Bay?"  Pippin frowned
                    "Uhm, yes, Sick Bay.  Hospital.  Clinic?  Place of healing."  Apollo mentally kicked himself for using too many words unfamiliar to the aliens.
                    "You're a Healer, then?"  Merry said, "On our world, as far as hobbits go, Healers are females.  Natural nurturing instincts, ye know."
                    Apollo gave Merry a side long glance.  This hobbit was very bright indeed and very quick on the uptake.  He would, Apollo noted, adapt easier than his companions.
    

"Men have nurturing instincts, too, Merry. Here, doctors....healers...can be either sex." 
    
    
                     The room was large with four comfortable looking beds, four clothing boxes, four bedside tables, and a computer terminal.  Of Corse the hobbits had no idea what a computer was, let alone it's purpose.  But it had been installed anyway to get them used to it's presence.  They were shown the shower room and how to use it.  Assured that the jets of water were not harmful and their temperature could be adjusted.  Shown how the soap dispensers worked.  The  toilet facilities had to be explained in more detail. They caught on quickly and could be left alone for a while.
                    Apollo retired to his office, sitting down at his desk with a heavy sigh.  He opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle and small glass.
                    "Doctor."  
                    He looked up into the disapproving eyes of his head nurse, Venus Snowleaf.  "Good evening, my dear.  Care to join me?"
                    She shook her head, frowning, "Do you need me to stay, doctor?"
                    "No.  I don't think so"  he sighed, filling the glass.  "The tranquilizer I gave them was pretty mild, it should be wearing off by now.  I think they'll be OK."
                    Venus took a tentative step into the room, "Doctor?  Do you think...?" She kept her voice low.
                    Apollo sipped thoughtfully at his drink, "I don't know what to think, Venus, I'm not a religious man."
                    Venus nodded and  smiled, "Well, good night, doctor."  A wave and she was gone.
                    Apollo sighed, polished off the drink, and poured another.  He had an idea of what the King was going to do.  Maybe it would be to the best?  Maybe not?   Apollo shook his head and poured yet another drink.
    
    
    
                    For several weeks the four hobbits were confined to their quarters, Sick Bay, and the garden outside.  Gradually, new things and people were introduced.  First Venus and some carefully screened medical staff.  Then, equally screened, maids and men of service.  The, also, new foods were introduced.  Merry and Pippin were especially willing to try new dishes.  Sam was a bit more cautious, and Frodo had usually to be coaxed.  
                    It was Merry and Pippin who seemed to be adapting the best.  New foods, new clothing they took in stride.  Then Frodo took an interest in the computer terminal. One of the male nurses started showing him how it worked.  There was one hitch, though.  Although the language of the hobbits was very close to Omicronase, the written word was very different.  Both Merry and Frodo expressed an interest in learning.  This desire was relayed to the king and a tutor was provided.  
                    Pippin tried to learn, too, just to be with Merry but soon became bored. They were going home soon, Pippin and Sam logiced out, so why learn these letters?
                    It was Frodo who studied diligently all that the tutor gave him.  Inside of a week he could read simple lines and words.  He started using the terminal, trying to read some ancient works.  He relayed his knowledge to Merry, who could not sit for hours of study.  Who relayed it to Pippin.  Sam, ever stubborn, refused to learn.
                    There were other things, too.  Like watching a play on the vid.  Sam was thoroughly enthralled by it.  He thought at first that he was watching something that was really happening here and now.  It took Apollo pressing the reverse button, to convince him otherwise.  
                    And the magazines.  Pictures of city life, country leisure, pictures of the latest fashions, and of young women wearing short skirts and skimpy tops particularly interested Merry and Pippin.  Apollo was fascinated how the two cousins would pour through pictures of women, admire and comment on the maids of service and some of the female nurses, all the while with hands clasped and fingers entwined.  
                    The doctor also found Sam's devotion to Frodo extremely touching.  Sam was also possessive and fiercely protective of Frodo.  All fine qualities in one's servant, But Sam took it beyond that, it seemed, almost into obsession.
                    At last the four hobbits seemed relaxed enough, and adapting well  enough, to be brought before the king.  
    
    
    
                    On a warm summer evening, after a good evens meal, Apollo led his charges, not to the reception room, or the throne room, but to the king's private apartments.  
                    His Majesty King Boreas the tenth, stood his full height of three feet to greet the aliens.  Dressed in crimson and gold, rings sparkling on his fingers.  He was an old man to the hobbits, his white hair flowing passed his shoulders and his face lined with years.  Yet, there was something about his eyes that Sam found odd.  He had seen those ice blue eyes once before, on the rider whom they saw many weeks earlier.  Yet the rider had been a young lad.  Sam's contemplation's were abruptly halted when the king's icy blue eyes at last met Frodo's sapphire gaze.  Boreas drew in a sharp breath and touched his throat just as all the Omnies did when they saw Mr. Frodo.  Sam's eyes grew hard and he slipped his hand in Frodo's.  Sam did not trust this king.
                    "So!"  said the king, "It is true!  I scarcely believe it.  Apollo, do you not see?"
                    "How can I not see, Majesty?  I am an Omnie.  To be an Omnie is to know the face of Adrial."  Apollo replied.
                    "Please, your majesty?"  Frodo spoke up, "We have enjoyed the companionship of the doctor for many weeks, and your gracious hospitality, sir.  We have   learned of you and tried to teach you of us.  Do not think, sir, that we are ungrateful, but it is always uppermost in our minds:  When may we go home?    I, I have a quest..."
                    The king looked  at Frodo with great compassion, "I am afraid your quest has ended, Frodo.  Please, let us sit out on the balcony?  Let the city's lights be background to our tales."
                    They went out onto the balcony and were seated and served wine.  The lights of the city far in the distance were, indeed, beautiful.  Apollo slumped in his chair and quickly drained his wine.  The king    frowned slightly at him, and began, "Do you  remember how you came to be here?  Probably not.  Then, I shall tell you:  You were abducted from your world by a couple of space pirates looking to gain reward.  They told me they thought you were an Omnie research team.  They said they hoped to be rewarded by returning you to the home world.  But, it was easily seen that you are most definatly not Omnies.  I ordered that you be returned to your planet straight off with one of my starships as escort.  It was then that I was told their NavCom was malfunctioning.   That they hadn't the twinkling of an idea where they found you.  Oh, we tried to back trace.  But, pirates do not travel in straight lines.  To be short,  if I knew where your world was I would have returned you long ago."
                    "Middle Earth."  Sam said, "That's where we're from.  The Shire."
                    "We were on our way to Rivendell"  Pippin added.
                    Boreas  gestured toward the sky, "Do you see the stars, Samwise Gamgee?  Do you see how many thousands there are?  And beyond them are thousands, millions, billions more!  Each star is a sun!  Each sun has at least one planet.  Which one is yours, Samwise?  Just point to it and I will happily send you home."
                    Tears were dripping off Sam's lashes, "I don't know, sir.  I'm just a gardener.  I don't know nothin bout no stars or suns.."
                    "Easy, Sam."  Frodo patted his friend's shoulder before turning back to the king, "We can't go home?  What about the Ring?  The Dark Lord's Ring of Power?"
                    "Bring out your Ring, Frodo."  the king's voice was kinder,  "Let me see it."
                    Frodo removed the Ring and it's chain from round his neck and let Boreas take it.  The king motioned and a very tall Omnie  appeared, one of the Palace Guard.  He was all of 4 ft 6 in tall, dressed in red and gold livery.  A sword hung on his belt, and something the hobbits had come to learn was a laser pistol.  Boreas held the Ring by it's chain out at arm's length and nodded.  The tall man drew the laser and fired at the Ring.  A beam of white light shot forth and held the Ring and went no further.  Frodo could see the Ring's inscription begin to glow.  "Enough.  That will be all."  said the king.
                    The guard turned and left.
                    Boreas studied the inscription, "I do not pretend to be able to read the writing, Frodo, but tell me if I am incorrect?  One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."
                    Frodo nodded, "Yes, my lord, you are correct."
                    Boreas sighed, "So, the prophecies were legitimate.  Take back your Ring, Frodo, no one will ever again touch it but yourself.  No one will ever again dare to touch Adrial's ring."
                    "Who is Adrial?  And why do you say Adrial's Ring, it is Sauron's."
                    The king made eye contact with Apollo, "You have not told him, doctor?"
                    "I had no  command to do so, sir." Apollo said quietly.
                    Boreas folded his hands across his chest and began a very   fascinating tale, "Thousands of years ago Adrial and his lover set out to destroy that very Ring.  Thinking by doing so they would end evil and corruption and make the world a better place.  They were aided in their quest by members of all the various races that existed at that time.  But, Adrial never completed his task.  Weather he was killed or taken or simply fled was never known.  Great wars then ensued and the world fell into chaos.  The Wars of the Ring lasted hundreds of years until the Dark Forces were driven back.  But the planet was left devastated.   And who had they to blame for this misery?  Adrial.  A halfling.  And Men, for it was they who survived in number, took revenge upon us.  Our towns were destroyed, homes burned to the ground.  We were hunted like animals, tortured and killed..  Some, though, escaped and hid.  Living  in fear under squalid conditions for decades.  And then, at last, one rose up and gathered our people together, gave them a leader. And we rose up and resisted the Men, the Elves, the Dwarves, and all who would oppress us. We had not strength, but we had cunning and cleverness.  I will not bore you with a thousand or more years of wars.  Suffice to say that after 2000 years we, Omnies, held dominion over this planet.  Our cleverness and cunning has advanced our civilization this, the  28th century.  We have reached out into space and colonized other worlds.  There are problems, I won't say  Omnies are perfect.  But on the whole we are a happy, healthy, thriving society."  the king smiled, pleased with himself, "And to what do you suppose  we owe all of this prosperity?  It was in   the early part of the 20th Century that a free thinker  called Thanatos Oldbuck determined that it was Adrial.  The man we had hated for so long was, in fact, our deliverer.  Adrial had failed in his quest and had brought us low.  But we rose up stronger for it.  And would we have done so had he succeeded?  No!  The men were already the dominate race and our ancestors too complacent. We would have died out eventually had it not been for Adrial.  Thanatos soon gathered followers.  The Cult of Adrial was born and evolved into The Fellowship of The Ring. It is our state religion.  All Omnies know of Adrial and his sacrifice for his people.  We thank you everyday, my Lord.  And it pleases us that you have returned to live among your people."  the king stood.
                    "I am not Adrial, your majesty. I am not an Omnie." Frodo rose to his feet, "I am just an ordinary hobbit..  I am just Frodo Baggins."
                    "Come, then, Frodo Baggins, and see for yourself."  Boreas walked back inside and came to stand before a curtained wall, "This portrait, as you will see, is very old.  The paint is but fine cracks and, if exposed to the atmosphere, would likely fall to dust. It is the only known depiction of Adrial from life."  He pulled the curtain aside.  
                    All was silence for a moment, then Sam gasped, "It's you, Mr. Frodo!"
                    "If it isn't, it sure looks like you!"  Merry commented.
                    And Pippin said, "Wow."
                    Frodo groaned and dropped to the floor like a stone.
                    "Mr. Frodo!"  Sam was instantly on his knees beside his master., "Apollo!"
                    The doctor knelt beside them, held his scanner over Frodo's body.  Apollo looked up at his king, "Sir, Frodo is ill and needs attention.  May I have your permission?"
                    Boreas nodded, "Granted, doctor."
                    "To sick Bay, sir?"
                    "To his apartments, you may tend him there."
                    The doctor bowed his head briefly and stood.  One of the tall guards moved forward  and made to lift Frodo.
                    "No!  Don't you touch him!"  Sam threatened, "If Mr. Frodo needs carryin, tis I will do the carryin. Be off with ye!"
                    King Boreas was struck with not only Sam's devotion, but his bravery as well.  Very few Omnies would have the audacity to face off one of the Palace Guards.  He motioned the large guard away and watched as Sam lifted his master.  Lifted him as if he were little more than a child in his arms.
                    "Lead on."  Sam said.
                    Apollo bowed to his king and started out.
                    Sam followed, carrying Frodo.
                    Merry and Pippin trotted close behind. hand in hand.
    
    
    
                    Down a long corridor carpeted in pale blue they came to a very large round silver door.  On either side stood two of the tall muscular guards, only these two wore livery of white and silver.  They stood aside as the door split in two and hissed open. Inside  was the sitting room. One whole wall was a window looking on the gardens and there were chairs, a sofa, even a fireplace.  Apollo told Merry and Pippin to wait there and led Sam, with his precious burden, into the next room.
                    It was dark until the doctor said "Light."
                    Sam had never seen such a magnificent bedroom in all his days.  All pearly white and silver, it was.  The bed was large, but still hobbit size,  piles of soft pillows rested at the head.  The sheets looked and felt like silk.  The white coverlet was covered with tiny flecks of silver that glittered. And on either side of this spectacular bed were two huge crystal vases filled with pink roses. Sam laid his master gently on the bed.
                    "Mr. Frodo?"  Sam worried, rubbing Frodo's hand, "Apollo, what's wrong with him?  You said he was sick?"
                    "Yes, Sam, he is.  Come now, help me get these clothes off him and get him covered.  I'll give him some medicine.."  Apollo started to remove Frodo's jacket, but Sam stopped him.
                    "I'll do that, sir, if you don't mind.  You get your medicine ready."
                    Apollo nodded, "All right, Sam.  The medicine is ready."  
                    Once Sam had Frodo undressed and covered with the smooth sheet and coverlet,  Apollo took a small silver box out of his pocket.   He opened it carerfully and extracted a long tube with a plunger.  The tube was filled with a rather pretty lavender liquid.  Apollo pulled off a small cap on the other end and frowned at the long thin needle, "I wish there was another way."  He sighed.  
                    He plunged the needle into Frodo's arm and pushed the plunger until all the liquid was gone.
                    "What was that!?"  Sam demanded, "You never gave us medicine like that before!  What're you doin?"
                    "Sam, I'm sorry, this is the only way this particular drug can be administered.  It's very special, that's all I can say..."
                    "What was..."  Sam was cut off by a soft whimper  from Frodo.
                    The blue eyes opened just a bit, just two blue slits beneath sable lashes.  Then a moan as Frodo's body stiffened.  "Mama.."  he gasped and clutched at the bedding, "It hurts!  It hurts!  Make it stop! "  Then a scream that chilled Sam's blood.  It was scream of one being tortured.  The scream of unutterable suffering and dispair.  "NO!NOOOO! STOP! PLEASE!  STOP!  NO NO IT HURTS!  HELP ME!  SAM!SAM! SAM!  KILL ME!"
                    Sam was crying.  Huge tears were dripping down his cheeks.  With trembling hands he tried to soothe his master as he lay  screaming and writhing.  Frodo's eyes never opened fully.  It was as if were caught up in a horrifying nightmare and was unable to wake up.  
                    At last, after an hour of this, Frodo's screams faded into hoarse sobs and his body relaxed.  Sam collapsed across Frodo's sweat soaked body, trembling and exhausted.  Apollo gently pulled Sam away and steered him towards the door.  
                    Two of Apollo's nurses were waiting in the sitting room.  They went into the bedroom as Apollo and Sam came out.  
                    The doctor helped Sam into a chair and shoved a glass in his hands, "Here, Sam, drink.  It's   whiskey, son, drink.  Don't worry, Merry and Pippin have been shown to their new quarters.  Yes, they're together.  Drink up."
                    Sam took a long drink, gulping and then coughing as the liqueur burned it's way down into his belly.  "Oh, Doc!  What..why...?"  he finally managed to stammer.
                    Apollo downed his glass in seemingly one gulp and poured himself another, "I'm sorry, Sam, I should have told you sooner.  Frodo wanted to keep it from you, he didn't want you to worry."
                    "Mr. Frodo, oh my poor master.  My poor dear master." Sam was sobbing, unable to control himself.
                    "I'm sorry you had to see that, Sam.  It's....part of the illness.  I'm sorry."  Apollo leaned over and patted his arm."Shiva and James are cleaning Frodo up, making him as comfortable as they can.  Sam, will you stay with him tonight?  Watch over him?  He'll need a firmiliar face in the morning."
                    Sam raised his face and looked Apollo in the eye, "You needn't ask, Apollo.  I'll not leave his side.  I, I made a promise, see?  Don't you lose him, Samwise Gamgee, don't you lose him.  And I don't mean to, sir, I don't mean to.  I'll stay with him through thick and thin, through any sufferin or illness. You needn't worry, Doc.  I'll look after him, I will!"
                    A small smile played at the doctor's lips, "I have no doubt of that, Sam, you are very protective."
                    "That I am, Doc, that I am!  I reckon us bein the only hobbits here, we need to stick close.  Merry and Pippin have each other, and Mr. Frodo has me.  Maybe he don't know it, but he has me here for him."
                    "And what about you, Samwise?"
                    "Why I have Mr. Frodo to look after, and fuss over."  Sam managed a smile.
                    James and Shiva came out of the bedroom.  James said, "Done, Dr. Apollo."
                    "Come, then, you can give me report on the way back down to Sick Bay."  Apollo rose from his seat, "Samwise, I leave Frodo in your capable, and loving, hands.  Good Night."  
    
    
    
                    Sam, both emotionally and physically exhausted, stumbled into the bedroom.  In the dim light he saw Frodo lying in peaceful sleep.  There was an extra nightshirt lying on the bed and Sam quickly shed his clothes and slipped it on.  Without hesitation he pulled back the covers and climbed in the bed beside his master.  Frodo smelled of sweet honeysuckle and roses.  With a sigh, Sam settled himself close, but not too close, and held Frodo's hand.  And just as he  slipped into sleep, he thought he felt Frodo's hand squeeze his.
                    This is how it always went, every night.  Every night   Frodo would start to feel the first pangs of his illness and, every night, Apollo would come.  The needle.  The pretty lavender liquid.  Then Sam watched helpless as Frodo's eyes became slits of blue.  Every night it was the same.  The tortured screams, the jerking limbs, the sweat and the gasping pain.  But, now, Sam was the one to clean his master's body and change the soft sheets.  Then crawl, exhausted, into bed and hold that slender, soft hand.  Every night.
                    Every day it was the same.  Frodo would sleep long, until nearly the 11th hour, sometimes to 11 and half.  He would be weak.  His voice only a hoarse whisper.  He would take a bit of food if Sam would feed him.  Sometimes he would lay in the bed.  Sometimes allow Sam to carry him out on the balcony and set him in a reclining chair.  Head resting on the satin pillows, covered with a light blanket.  Frodo's eyes would fix on the Gardens below and, sometimes, he would smile a soft smile. 
                    Every day there were visitors.  Merry and Pippin came every morning with smiles and tales of their new adventures and discoveries.  Frodo would close his eyes and listen.  Then Pippin would lean down and kiss Frodo's cheek and with a quick, "Love ya, cousin."  the two would be off.  
                    The king came every day, too.  He sat and talked to Frodo, and called him Adrial and my Lord.  This annoyed Sam to no end, but he knew better than to chide a king.  
                    Some days Apollo came in the daylight.  Some days he would send Venus to check Frodo and bring him a report.  
                    And there was a new visitor, Chronos, High Bishop of The Fellowship.  High Priest of The Ring.  Sam disliked him straight off.   Chronos was younger than the king, older than Frodo.  He was tall, majestic, and handsome with glittery dark eyes and raven hair that fell below his shoulders.  Always dressed in flowing white robes when he came to visit.  He bowed low and made `the sign'.  His talk was confined to Mr. Frodo's illness, his comfort and any needs he had.  Chronos called Frodo  Adrial, too, and when he said My Lord it was as if he were addressing a god.  
                    Every day he offered to send a young Brother or Sister to sit with Adrial while Sam took some air.  At first Sam was insulted and fuming at this.  Now, though, after 10 long days, he was starting to warm to the idea.
    
    
    
                    Near the back of the Royal Gardens was an orchard.  Apple trees, Oranges, pears.   It was only late Spring but some of the pears near the top were looking quite ripe.   Merry boosted Pippin up into the tree.  "I'll toss em down to ye, Merry."
                    Merry licked his lips in anticipation, "Right."  He was staring up into the tree, waiting, when he heard the sound of a pony approaching. Turning, he saw the same white pony and the same rider they'd seen weeks earlier.  
                    "What are you up to?"  the rider asked. Not angry, just curious.
                    "Nothin."  Merry's standard answer whenever he got caught.
                    A pear dropped to the ground  between them.  Then three more.  Then Pippin dropped out of the tree, landing on his feet with a thump.  He picked up the fruit and grinned at the stranger, "Hullo. Look nice an ripe, don't they? "  he offered one.            "Thanks."  said the stranger, "I'm Neptune Starbuck.  I know who you two are:  Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took.  Merry and Pippin.  I've seen you around.  You like it here?"
                    "It's all right, I guess."  Merry said.  He bit into the pear and juice trickled down his chin.  He wasn't about to admit he was homesick.
                    "You guys want me to show you some better places?"  Neptune asked
                    "Better?"
                    "Yea, more fun."
                    "Yea.  Yea, sure.  That all right with you, Pip?"
                    Pippin nodded as he finished his second pear.  He licked the juice off his hand, and wiped it on his breeches.  Without a second thought he slipped his hand into Merry's.  "Lead on."
                    They walked through the orchards.  Neptune leading his pony.  Merry and Pippin holding hands quite unconsciously.  It was a habit now.  Just like sharing the bed was.  
                    "What did you guys like to do for fun on your planet?"  Neptune asked.
                    Merry told him about pinching Farmer Maggot's crops, swimming in the river, nights at the Inn, the Festivals and Celebrations of the Shire.  Pippin told him about some of the games they liked and about the swing on that old tree near the Brandywine River and how much fun it was to have someone shove you real hard and then leap off into the water.  
                    "You like swimming?"  Neptune asked with enthusiasm, "Great!  Come on!"  He started walking faster. "We'll take Skycloud here to the stables, then I'll show you the pool."
                    Merry didn't think it was warm enough to swim and a little pool wouldn't be much fun anyway.
                    "Say."  Neptune looked at Merry, "Do you two like girls?"
                    "Corse we like girls!  Don't we, Pip?"  Merry said way to loudly.
                    "Hey, don't get tight about it.  I just thought...."  Neptune glanced at the cousin's clasped hands.
                    Merry quickly let go of Pippin.
                    Pippin looked disappointed.
    
                    Neptune showed his new friends the swimming pool which  not only had slides and a springy board to jump in the water from, but girls.  Girls wearing little but three bits of cloth, or something so tight that it made the hobbits wondered, "Why bother?"  And not only were the girls nearly naked, but they liked to play and touch and they giggled and squealed most delightfully.  Merry and Pippin didn't mind wearing swimming trunks after that.  They didn't mind the other lads being there either.  It was all grand fun.
                    So were the new games Neptune taught them.  Games played in teams, games played on the VidScreen, games played with the girls, and ones just for the lads.  Neptune introduced them to new types of music, too.  Music that made them want to move.  Music with a deep bumping beat and songs about love and lust and feeling alone and feeling happy and feeling sad.  
                    Merry and Pippin picked up on the latest fashions, the latest slang.  Neptune taught them how to dance, alone and with a girl.  They went riding together nearly everyday, and there were picnics and dances.
    
                    Deep into Summer as Merry sat on one side of Frodo's chair, and Pippin on the other, Sam looked with dismay.  He had wanted all of them to remain hobbits, but the two youngsters were acting more and more like Omnies.  
                    Finally, Merry took Frodo's limp hand, "When you get better, cousin, we'll all go swimming.  It'll be brilliant."  
                    Frodo opened his eyes half way and smiled a bit.  He never said much any more, he was that weak, and barely moved on his own.  And it seemed to Sam that he was getting worse, but Apollo said he was getting better.
                    Pippin smiled, "You're brilliant, Frodo.  We miss you about a millennia's worth."
                    "Will you two speak in the Common Tongue?"  Sam grumbled.
                    "We are!"  Merry sounded surprised.
                    "Frodo understands, don't you?"  Pippin defended.
                    "You're Hobbits, damn it!  Not Omnies!"  Sam's voice rose a notch.
                    Merry stood up and faced Sam, "Yes, Samwise, I am well aware we are hobbits!  But, since we can't go home, we need to try at least to fit in here!  We need to try and make a life for ourselves here.  Sam, I miss the Shire terribly.  I miss my family and that overcrowded warren that is my home.  I miss the river and the trees and, and I even miss Farmer Maggot..."  Merry bit his lip to keep from crying, "But, Sam, we have got to move on.  Not forget, no never.  The Shire shall always be in our hearts."
                    Pippin looked sadly at Frodo, who had drifted into sleep again, "Look at you two, Sam.  Poor Frodo is so very sick, he may die.  Oh, I know what Doc says, but just look at him?  He grows weaker every day.  He won't eat or drink on his own.  He can't walk, and won't talk.  Doc has to give him all kinds of medicines just to keep him going.  And then here you sit, pining and sighing, and  hoping.  But, what if it's hopeless?  What if he dies?  What will you have then?   In your present state you'd probably die, too. And Merry and I couldn't operate with that."
                    Sam turned away from them, arms folded across his chest, "He needs me."
                    Merry touched his shoulder, "Sam?  I doubt he even knows you're here.  C'mon, Pip,  Neptune's waiting."
                    Sam waited until he was sure they were gone, then turned to look at his master.  His flesh, always pale, had taken on a transparency that relieved the delicate blue veins beneath.  His lips, once pink and plump, were ashen.  And his eyes.  Those deep sapphire pools that once Sam thought he could drown in, rarely opened fully.  When they did open it seemed the blueness was gone, replaced with a dull gray.  
                    Sam gently stroked Frodo's cheek.  It was High Summer, quite hot, even here in the shade.  Yet even with his blankets, Frodo felt cold and clammy.  
                    "You know I'm here, don't you, Mr. Frodo?"  Sam asked, "You still need your Sam, don't you?"
                    There was no response, either real or imagined.  Just that poor delicate creature that used to be a hobbit.  Used to be Frodo Baggins.  Lying very still, his breath shallow, his fingers trembling even in sleep.  Sam wanted to gather him up and run.  Run all the way back to the Shire.  Back to Bag End, put Mr. Frodo in his own bed and have good Shire Healers look after him.  Give him medicines that weren't funny colours. Wrap him in sturdy cotton sheets and the quilt his mother made when she was but a young lass. He would mend soon enough back home.  He would talk again and smile.  He would get strong enough to walk again, and he would come out into the garden.  And Sam would stop his work and smile at Frodo.  And   in that one smile a million words of love would be exchanged.
                    Sudden pain gripped Sam's heart, catching his breath, choking him on a whimper.  Because no matter if he could take Frodo and run away, where would they go? Where?  Out into the woods?  Would Sam be able to build them a hole?  To plant a garden of food for them?  Before Frodo died?  It was all so foolish to even think such things.    
                    "Sam?'
                    Sam turned around, startled, "Doc!"
                    Apollo offered an apologetic smile, "I had the guards ring, but you must not have heard.  How'se our patent?"
                    "  He opened his poor eyes a bit for Merry and Pippin, even tried to smile"  Sam reported.
                    Apollo smiled, "That's good news."  He took out his little scanner and held it over Frodo's body, "He's really doing well, Sam."
                    "Don;t tell me that!"  Sam snapped, "I knows better!  That ain't no way for a hobbit to look! Tell me the truth, doctor!  He's dying, isn't he?"
                    "No, Sam, he is not dying.  You've helped me give him the medicine each night.  There's not so much pain as when we first started.  He is improving.  My word as a physician.  On the image of Adrial, Sam, I swear to you:  he is getting better."  
                    But all Sam could do was bow his head and weep helplessly, "I'm sorry, sir, I just can't..."
                    Apollo let Sam cry for a bit before saying, "Sam, I know you're worried and afraid for Frodo's life.  But, making yourself sick by staying up here with him for days on end, is not doing him any favors.  Sam, for Frodo's sake?  Please go outside for a while.  Take a walk?  Sit under a tree?  Take a nap in the grass?  Just get away for a bit.   Breathe some air that isn't filtered and humidified.  Please?  Doctor's orders."
                    Sam blinked, wiping his eyes, "Well, maybe for a few minutes."
                    Apollo smiled, plopping himself into a chair, "I'll sit with him.  You go on."
                    Reluctantly, Sam turned around and walked out the door.
    

**END OF PART ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hobbits: His. Weird Story: Mine.  
> Author's notes: This story was originally written in 1978-79. It has been more than difficult to try to rewrite it as, foolishly, I have been trying to duplicate it. But as this is now 2002 and I am much older and have changed some of my ways of thinking, I feel I must go on in a direction more in keeping. Did I mention being slashy? Most of what should be Part Two was written while I got up courage to write the slashy bits. For my mother. Before I knew it was slash.   
>  Now I know what slash is. Now I am writing for others. Now I am anxious to get to the good stuff. So, in view of that I will merely outline the "interlude" I hope this causes not too much inconvenience or disappointment.....
    
    
                    Merry and Pippin have grown very friendly with Neptune, who they find out is Prince Neptune, heir to the throne.  Neptune is disappointed when his new friends find out, but they are soon back to their old mischief.  Neptune takes them to his favorite night clubs.  The Purple Cat, Stonehollow's, Club Rocket, Heartbreaker's, etc.  Merry and Pippin enjoy the music, the dancing, and meeting the girls.  
                    Their first experience with a flyer is rather uneventful.  Pippin is scared at first, but soon gets to like flying.  Merry is eventually taught how to operate it himself.  The flyers, by the way, are operated with a series of buttons and steered with a `joy stick', a red button on top of which is the accelerator.  The brake is operated by computer, or push button.  
                    One winter night Neptune takes them to a concert of what we'd call Heavy Metal.  Most rock bands on Omicron7Delta are females and this band is no exception.  After the concert they go back stage and are introduced to the band.  During the corse of the night, and a rather wild party, the two Hobbits are seduced by members of the band.  The girls each have a turn at them, then pronounce them boring as lovers .  The two hobbits are left alone and bewildered.  Neptune is angry over the treatment of his two friends, and tells them it will not happen again.  
                    Now the three friends begin to settle down a bit and Merry expresses a desire to be more educated.  Neptune invites him to share in his studies and tutors.  Pippin finds this all too boring.  He becomes upset with Merry and walks out on him.
                    Sam, meanwhile, has gotten the Frozen Fantasy Rose to bloom.  King Boreas is very pleased and offers Sam a permanent position.  Sam is reluctant at first but finally accepts.  At first he works during the day and still spends   evenings and nights with Frodo.  But Frodo never seems to get any better.  After several weeks Sam stops coming.  In fact Sam moves in with Thalia and they have a rather torrid  affair.
                    By the time it is Spring again Thalia has grown tired of Sam and asked him to leave.  He does.
                    Sam thinks he can go back to Frodo and pick up just as before.
                    Wrong!
                    Sam finds that he has been replaced by two brothers,  Ary and Tag.   Ary is very dedicated to caring for Adrial.  It is Ary who holds Adrial as Apollo gives him his nightly injection.  It is Ary who now shares Adrial's bed.  Tag is younger, but just as devoted.   Frodo is still too ill to really comprehend what is happening.   Frodo cries out for Sam, but does not realize that it is Ary who holds and soothes him.  
                    The two brothers turn Sam away and tell the guards not to let him near Adrial.  The King is unaware of this.  Chronos, the High Bishop, is aware and approves.
                    Sam is broken hearted.  He tries to do his job in the Gardens but it becomes increasing difficult.  He has been sleeping in Sick Bay for want of any other place.  Sinking deeper and deeper into a depression but hiding it.  
                    Pippin is also suffering from heartache of feeling that he has lost his beloved cousin.  He still stays with Merry, but they sleep in separate beds, and the two barely speak.
                    So, now we begin anew:   It is Summer.  The Hobbits have been there one year.  
    
    
    
                    "Sam, we need to have a talk."  Apollo was leaning on the doorframe, two glasses of blue liqueur in his hand.  He stepped inside the room, "Here, son, drink this."
                    "What is it?"  Sam took the glass sniffing it.
                    "It's called Tropical Breeze.  Try it."  Apollo smiled and took a sip of his.
                    Sam tasted it and coughed.
                    The doctor pulled up a chair and sat, or rather sprawled, "Sam, first let me say that I don't mind you staying here.  In fact you have been more than helpful on several occasions.  I'm thinking of having you trained as a nurse.  But I know that's not what you need to be doing.  There is a sadness in your eyes that I attributed at first to the end of your affair with Thalia. I was wrong.  Is it homesickness?"
                    Sam hung his head, "You could say that, sir."
                    Apollo thought a bit, "No, I don't think it's that.  Though it is one of the symptoms.  Is it Frodo?"
                    Sam took a large swallow of his drink, but said nothing.
                    "You know I'm a pretty fair diagnostician, Sam. Drink up.  I'll be right back."  Apollo left and returned with a bottle of Tropical Breeze.  He filled Sam's glass again, ""You've heard me say I'm not a religious man?  I believe Adrial lived.  I believe he was the catalyst that brought about change.  I do not think he is a god."  he filled Sam's glass again, "I do not believe Frodo is a god.  Sam?  D'you know what `adrial" means?  It was not the name of the Ringbearer.  It is in an ancient language.  It means divine spirit.  Angel."
                    Sam raised his eyes, "Angel?  Yes, that's fittin enough.  Mr. Frodo is an angel."  He let Apollo fill his glass again.
                    "Yes."  Apollo nodded, noting Sam's increasing inhibriation, "He is very beautiful.  Very....fragile.  But, I think--and correct me if I'm wrong--he is your angel."
                    "He is that, sir.  He is that."  the liquor had finally done it's work.  Tears started to drip from the hobbit"s lashes.  "So fine and fair, sir.  I `ad always fantasies about `im and me.  Of touchin `im. `oldin him close.  Not coz I likes other lads, no sir.  It's only `im, sir.  It's Mr. Frodo.  I wants to protect `im.  Fold `im in my arms, sir."  Another drink, "But, but, them feelins is wrong, ain't they? Unnatural.  Mr. Frodo's a male, not a lass."
                    Apollo shook his head, "No, Sam, your feelings are perfectly natural.  They are not wrong or shameful. Maybe in your Shire they are  scorned, but not here.  You are what we call a duo.  You can love either sex.  I'm a duo, Sam.  It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
                    Sam drained his glass for the 5th time, "Mr. Frodo's so sick, doc, and I wants so to care for `im.  I loves `im so much.  Even if `e never woke up, I'd stay and care for `im, I would."
                    The doctor smiled as Sam held his glass out to be refilled, "Nothing like strong drink to loosen the tonge.  Tell me, then, Samwise, what's stopping you?  You know Frodo calls for you?"
                    Sam drank deeply, "'e does, sir?"
                    "He does.  So, what's stopping you? "
                    "The Guards, sir.  They's stoppin me."  Sam's words were slurred and his hobbitish speech becomming thicker.  It was nearly to the point where Apollo couldn't understand him.
                    "The guard?  How're they stopping you, dear boy?"  Apollo's speech was slurred too.
                    "They says I can't see Mr. Frodo, sir. They says I'm not wanted coz I deserted `im.  They says `e don't need me and I don't `alf blame em."
                    Apollo leaned forward, "Who are they?"
                    "They told guards not to let me enter..."
                    "Who, dammit!"
                    "Mr. Ary and Mr. Tag." Sam sniffed.
                    Apollo put the nearly empty bottle down, "Ary and Tag are men of service, Sam.  You are their superior.  They couldn't.  Wouldn't.  Do a thing like that unless...unless...Chronos!!"  He looked at Sam, "The Arch Bishop, Sam.  Chronos wants Frodo to be Adrial.  And in his current condition Frodo's mind is ripe for bending.  Damn! Why didn't I see it?  Sam, we must see the king at once!"  The doctor stood up and fell back in the chair, "But, not like this."
                    "I thinks I'm a bit tipsy, sir."  Sam's eyes fluttered.
                    "Tipsy?  Sam, we are both ripped.  Wasted.  Splattered. Stoned. Intoxicated.  And drunk."   Apollo fumbled in the pocket of his coat and produced his probe, "Not to fear, my boy, I've had lots of experience.  I could dial this code in my sleep.  And I have.  On several occasions."  He pressed the instrument to his forearm.  The firmiliar hiss, a gasp and, "There!  Perfectly sober.  Your turn, Samwise."  
                    Sam had been rather enjoying being drunk.  It felt good.  Relaxed.  All his guilt and worry floated away in a sea of alcohol.  He really didn't appreciate Apollo's little sobering up drug at all.  "Why'd you do that for?"  Sam frowned.
                    "Because, my fine friend, we cannot gain audience with Boreas if we are stinking drunk.  He wouldn't believe us."  Apollo yanked Sam up on his feet, "The King will be hotter than an antimatter reactor once he hears this. Leastwise I hope he will be.  Take Chronos down a peg or two, as well. I hope."
                    Sam folded his arms across his chest, "No, sir."
                    "What?"  Apollo frowned
                    "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I can fight my own battles.  There ain't nothing more in this world, nor any other, that I want more than to care for Mr. Frodo.  But if I must prove myself, first, then so be it!"  
                    Apollo gave an exasperated sigh, "Sam, Sam, you can't prove yourself unless you get passed the guard.  This is not a battle, son, it's reclaiming what is rightfully yours.  Frodo is yours even if only because you belong to the same race.  Now stop being so   warped and come with me."
    
    
    
                    Ary, freshly bathed, stood while his brother rubbed scented oils into his skin.  Eyes closed, he recited "And they did lie together many days before he took Adrial as a lover."
                    "And he knew Adrial and their bond was strong, tying their souls forever."  Tag completed the verse, "Oh, Ary, he is so beautiful."
                    Ary just nodded and pulled his robe on.
                    "You are so lucky that the Archbishop chose you to share his bed."  Tag sighed, "They say his eyes are brilliantly blue, are they?"
                    "I don't know, Tag, he's not opened them."
                    "He will."
                    "Yes, soon, I think.  Already he is making sounds.  Whimpers when I kiss his lips.  Soft moans when I touch him....there.  Chronos says I must continue, though he does not respond yet, and whisper in his ear.  When he wakes he will love me.  Me."
                    Tag smiled proudly, "Go to him, brother.  I will straighten up here."
                    Ary went into the bedroom.
                    Tag busied himself picking up.
                    He was about to put off the light and go to his own bed when he heard a commotion outside the door.   He stepped back as the doors slid open and King Boreas entered, followed by two of the Royal guard, followed by Dr. Apollo and......Sam.
    Sam ran passed everyone and toward the Bedroom.  Tag caught his arm, "No!"
                    Sam spun around and, "Let go of me."  He said, his voice low and menacing, "Let go of me now!"
                    One of the guardsmen jerked Tag away from Sam and held him fast.
                    Sam ran into the bedroom and stopped short just inside the door.  From the large window that made up one wall a shaft of moonlight illuminated the bed.  Sam saw Ary lying between Frodo's legs, moving as a lover, moaning.  He stood frozen watching as Ary's mouth covered   Frodo's in a deep intimate kiss.   Then, slowly, he realized that his master was not responding either in passion or fear or pain.  Frodo still lingered    somewhere between dream and darkness.  His body was being used!   The word `rape' flashed across Sam's brain and with a cry of rage he crossed the room. 
                    "Get off him!"  Sam snarled, yanking Ary off Frodo.
                    Ary sat up, "How dare you!  How did you get in here?"  then he called out, "Guard!  Guard!"
                    But no one came.
                    "Get away from him!"  Sam ordered, "You ain't fit to touch him!  Get away, I said!"  Sam   grabbed Ary's arm and yanked him out of the bed, "You ain't fit to breathe the same air he does!"
                    Ary grabbed his robe and put it on quickly, "You're one to talk, Master Gamgee.  You deserted him, left him in pain.  Left him alone and in pain."  Those words got to Sam, and Ary saw it, "He needed someone to comfort and care for him.  He needed you.  But you turned your back on him, didn't you?  The only reason your back at all is because Thalia dumped you.  Well, let me tell you this:  You are fit to touch him!  You have been replaced!  It is I he will love!  Not you!  And you cannot change that!  I have been bonding with him for weeks.  He will wake soon and he will love me! "  Ary reached down and took Frodo's limp hand.  "Frodo is dead!  He is truly Adrial and will know no other name."
                    All the anger melted from Sam, leaving dispare in it's place.  He stood there as the room spun about him, his eyes burning with tears.  He looked  down at Frodo, his master, his friend, his love, and whimpered, "Frodo?"
                    "Frodo is dead!"   Ary repeated.  
                    Sam wiped his face, the anger was returning, "NO!  Frodo is not dead!  Adrial is DEAD!  LONG DEAD!   This here's Frodo Baggins! A Hobbit!  Like me!  We're hobbits!  Not Omnies!  I don't know what else you been doin to him, but it stops here!  Yea!  I left him!  I admit to that!  I was confused  and afraid.  I made a mistake and will likely spend my life makin up for it.  But, I swear on all I hold dear, I will NEVER repeat it!   I am here to stay."
                    Undaunted, Ary said, "Words!  Adrial has bonded with me and nothing you can do, or say, will change that.  He will call for me when he wakes. He will want my voice to sooth him.  My hand to caress him.  My lips to touch his.  My body close to his.  My love to comfort him.  He will beg for my touch.  And when I stroke his aching flesh I will thank you, Samwise.  Thank you for handing me this greatest of treasures."
                    From the doorway Apollo, the king, and the two red clad guards watched as Sam flew at Ary.  
                    "Enough!"  the king commanded as the two guards stepped forward.  They pulled Sam off of Ary and held him firmly. The king regarded both combatants warily, "We do not know what has been going on here, gentlemen, but we soon will."  He folded his arms   across his chest, "Bring His Holiness here."
                    Apollo took custody of Sam from the guards.  
                    After the red guards had left, Boreas said, "Let us leave this poor soul to his rest."
                    Out in the large sitting room, Sam was ordered to a chair on one side of the room.  Ary to one on the opposite side.  Tag came and stood by his brother.  Apollo stayed with Sam.  The king called for wine to settle everyone's nerves.
                    Not long after it was delivered, the Archbishop was delivered.  
                    "Ah!  Chronos, how good of you to join us."  the King was not smiling.
                    Chronos dipped his head, "Majesty."
                    The Arch Bishop was handed a goblet of wine.  He drank.
                    "Now, if you would be so kind as to,"  Boreas pointed at Ary and Tag, "explain that!"
                    Chronos looked as innocent as ever, "I would gladly, sir, if I knew of what you speak?"
                    "Do not toy with me, Chronos!   What was Master Ary  doing in Frodo's bed?!"  
                    Apparently unmoved by his king's growing temper, Chronos replied, "Frodo?  I know no Frodo, sire."
                    "Chronos!"  the king thundered, "Do you wish to answer my questions here?  Or in the Tower?"
                    Still seeming unfazed, Chronos said, " I am more than willing to answer any questions Your Majesty may have.  I had ordered young Ary to give Adrial comfort..  I did not intend for it to be of a sexual nature."
                    "He told me.."  Ary breathed, then spoke out, "You told me!"
                    "Silence!"  Chronos ordered.
                    Boreas glared at Chronos, "Speak, lad, what did His Holiness tell you?"
                    Ary stood up, took a breath and said, "He told me to do whatever I needed to bond Adrial to me.  He made it quite clear that this was to include sexual relations.  Sir."
                    "Indeed?"  the king pondered, "And why, do you suppose, did he do that?"
                    "To control Mr. Frodo, that's what I thinks!"  Sam spoke up.
                    "Nonsense!"  Chronos sputtered, "Pure nonsense!  Master Samwise left Adrial's service and needed to be replaced.  I chose Tag and Ary because of their high ratings, that is all.  I never mentioned sex."  Then, with a haughty look, said "If Ary did have sex with Adrial it was without my knowlege or consent."
                    Sam snorted, "Without Mr. Frodo's consent neither!"
                            Chronos turned to the two brothers, "Did you have sexual relations with our Lord Adrial?"  
                    There was something in the ArchBishop's tone of voice that made Sam cringe.  He looked at the brothers and suddenly felt sorry for them.  He had seen with his own eyes Ary lying on top of Frodo.  There was no other reason or explination for doing that.  But, Sam knew, if Ary told the truth he would be dismissed and punished if only for show.  And if he lied?
                    After a long pause Ary said, "No, sir, I did not.  I merely lay with him to comfort and if he should wake in the night.  It is not a good idea to leave him alone, is it, doctor?"
                    Apollo shook his head, "That is correct, Your Majesty.  At this stage of his illness Frodo needs to be tended across the clock."
                    Boreas was frowning, his brows knit and eyes glimmering, "That is not what this is about however.  From now on Samwise will be granted full access to Adrial or Frodo or whatever name you choose to call him.  Is that clear?"
                    Chronos bowed low, "Perfectly, sir."  Then turned to Ary and Tag, "You will sleep in the servant's room. You will take your orders from Samwise.  Understood?"
                    "Yes, sir."  Tag and Ary both bowed .
                    The matter, it seemed to Sam, was settled.  Boreas and Chronos left.  One red guard and one white guard were left at the door.  Apollo went in to check on Frodo, Sam close behind.
                    "Be on your guard, Sam."  Apollo said the minute they were alone, "You've won one battle, not the war."
                    "War?"  sam frowned, "What war?"
                    "The war for control of Frodo's mind and heart.  Chronos isn't going to give up so easily."  Apollo sat on the bed, "His church is in trouble.  People are falling out of beleif of Adrial as a deity.  Chronos beleives that if he can produce Adrial in the flesh it will revive The Fellowship."
                    "Would it?"  Sam wondered.
                    Apollo shrugged, "I doubt it.  After all, Adrial was an Omnie and Frodo is a Hobbit.  Remember what I taught you?"
                    Sam nodded, "Yes.  Omnies feet are smaller and softer.  They have no body hair save on their heads and feet.  Hobbits have that plus pubic and some chest hair..like me.  And Omnies have a second heart, here, but it is not strong enough to support life for more than a few hours.  Oh, and Omnies have 37 teeth, whilst Hobbits have but 32."
                    Apollo smiled and patted Sam on the arm, "I'll make a doctor of you yet, Sam.  Walk me to the door?"
                    After Apollo had left, Sam turned and started back toward the bedroom.  He was stopped by Ary, "Sam? "   When sam turned to face him, Ary backhanded him hard, "  He is mine and you will not win."
                    The blow knocked Sam to the floor.
                    Ary quickly turned and disappeared into his bedroom.
                    Sam picked himself up.  He went into Frodo's room and pulled a chair close to the bed.  He was not about to climb in that bed without an invitation.
    
    
    
                    Sam shifted and moaned in his chair.  His muscles were stiff and sore from sitting up  all night.  Blinking open his eyes he yawned and stretched.  Sunlight was filing the room. It looked like it would be another beautiful day.  Then he looked down at the bed.  His breath caught in his chest and his heart skipped for looking up at him were a pair of brilliant blue eyes.  Blue and sparkling, gazing up at him with  deep adoration.  
                    "Mr. Frodo?"  Sam slid off the chair onto his knees.  He grasped one of Frodo's hands, it was warm and alive, "Frodo!  Oh, glory!"  He kissed the slender fingers.
                    A small smile curved the pale lips and Frodo mouthed his name "Sam"             Heart pounding, Sam leaned over and placed a tender kiss upon his master's brow, "Oh, my dear.  Dear Master."
                    "My Sam."  Frodo's voice was a soft whisper.
                    For a moment Sam was lost as to what he should do.  What he wanted to do was just hold Frodo close and run fingers through his hair and whisper affectionate words and...No, that wasn't what was needed right now.  Apollo was needed.   Sam smoothed the curls from Frodo's face, "You rest quiet now.  I'll be right back, Mr. Frodo."  He got up and was half way to the door--
                    "Sam.  No. Please. Don't leave me. oh, please, don't leave me."  The voice was still but a whisper but the sweet face was contorted with fear. "No. No. Please."                Sam went back .  He sat on the bed and lifted his master into his arms "There now, Mr. Frodo, don't you fret.  Your Sam won't leave you."  Then  shouted, "ARY!  TAG!  GET IN HERE! QUICK!"
                    The door slid open and the brothers rushed in.  They saw Adrial awake, lying in Sam's arms content.  All the color drained from Ary's face and he could not speak.  But Tag said, "Yes, sir?"
                    "Go fetch Dr. Apollo."  Sam ordered.
                    Tag turned and ran out of the room.
                    Ary fell to his knees, making the sign of the Ring, "Oh, Lord Adrial, forgive me.  I have committed a grievous sin."
                    Sam frowned at him, "What are you babbling about?"
                    Frodo made a soft purring sound and nuzzled Sam's neck.
                    "A bond to last forever, transcending all others.  Deep  and true through all the ages.   Hearts, Minds, Souls, Body and Blood joined as one."  Ary spoke, "It is from the Second Book of The Lover.  Our Lord should, forgive me, have cried out for me.  It is an effect of the drug.  The ability to shape the users emotions, to bend the user's mind.  Adrial's mind and heart remain true, sir, to you.  You are Adrial's Lover.  I could never break that bond.  All I may do now is beg forgiveness."
                    "I don't understand what you're tryin to say, but if you're apologizing for last night?  Well, I reckon I forgive you."  Sam sighed.  
                    Frodo was stroking Sam's cheek with is soft fingers, murmuring, "Sam. Sam.  My beautiful Sam."
                    Sam swallowed, "Mr. Frodo?"
                    The fingers slid down to caress Sam's throat, "Oh, I love you."  Tears were     running down those too, too pale cheeks, "You are   so beautiful."
                    Sam caught  the hand before it could go anywhere else.  This was making him very uncomfortable, especially with Ary watching.  It was a releife when Apollo came running in, with one of his nurses close behind.
                    "He's awake, Doc."  Sam stated the obvious.
                    Apollo came and sat on the other side of the bed, "So I see."  He used his scanner, "Not too bad."  He muttered.  "Frodo?  Frodo, look at me."
                    Brillant blue eyes turned to the  doctor, "Hello, doctor.  Isn't he beautiful?  My own dear Sam."
                    Sam blushed crimson.
                    Apollo smiled, "Yes, Frodo, he is.  How do you feel?"
                    "Dizzy.  Weak."
                    "That's to be expected.  You've been sick a very long time."  Apollo watched as Frodo turned back to Sam, caressing him, kissing wat ever bits he could reach.  "Sam, don't worry, he's just being affectionate. He loves you."
                    "He never acted like this before."  Sam worried.
                    "My own.  My love."  Frodo whispered.
                    Sam gave Apollo a pained look, "Doc?"
                    Apollo laughed softly, "Come now, Frodo, that's enough for now.  You need to eat something."  he gently pulled Frodo away from Sam and settled him back into the pillows, "Then a nice hot soak, some clothes, and some sunshine.  Give your poor Sam a breather now and then.  He knows you love him, don't you, Sam?"
                    "I do."  Sam said quietly, "And, and I loves you, too, Mr. Frodo."
                    "He loves me."  Frodo sighed, closing his eyes. 
    
    
    
                    So passed the Spring with Frodo slowly recovering.  Apollo still came at night to give him his medicine.  Still with the needle.  But Frodo did not cry out or appear too distressed by it.  
                    As he grew stronger, he could let Sam go for a few hours each day.  This is when Sam went to work in the Royal Gardens.  It was good for his soul to dig in the earth and tend the growing things.  His Majesty was very pleased with the results and ordered Sam's recommendations be followed.  
                    Yet, still, there was an uneasiness in "Adrial's" household.  Ary, being very devoted to The Fellowship, soon forgot his belief that Sam was `The Lover'.  That is not what Chronos wanted him to believe.  Arch Bishop Chronos was, after all, head of the Fellowship.  His word, like those before him, was law on matters of religion.  Chronos said Sam was not The Lover.  Chronos said Sam was evil.  An agent of the Darkness and would corrupt Adrial's pure heart.  Ary beleive him.  
                    "What must I do?"  
                    "Watch.  And wait."  Chronos said with a smile, "I will tell you what to do and when to do it."
    
                    All Spring Merry had spent with Neptune.  Learning.  Omnie Culture.  Complex mathematics.  Geometry.  Chemistry.  And he was, surprisingly very good at it.  Merry's test scores, though not always perfect, were incredibly high.  Considering the culture of the planet called Middle Earth, the instructors and tutors called him a genius.  King Boreas decreed Merry be styled Prince Meriadoc of Buckland.   The new title made Merry feel self conscious.  Especially when he was addressed as  `Your Highness'.   But Merry had a motive for his hard work and studying:  He ment to find Middle Earth again.
    And if that ment burying himself in this   high tech culture and filing his head with numbers and formulas, so be it.   For he knew that in order to find Middle Earth and the Shire, it would take a ship. A starship.  A simple hobbit of the Shire could not have a starship.  An Omnie, a Prince, could.
                    Pippin did not know this.  He had no idea.  All he knew was that Merry was ignoring him.  Merry, who had pledged to love and protect him forever, had gone away.    Not only had Merry turned away from Pippin, but from his own culture and heritage as well.   
                    At first Pipin had been angry.  That soon faded to sorrow and loneliness.  And Pippin wasn't Pippin any more.  Those once sparkling, mischievous, green eyes were often cast down in dispair.  The bouncing, chattering tween was now silent and still.  
                    He sat with Frodo for a while, until he decided Frodo did not need his melancholy.  Now he was only seen about the palace at night.  Often just sitting, staring at the moons and stars.  Never toward the City.  And writing in a book Frodo had given him.  Writing. Writing, never letting anyone see.  He drew pictures as well, but kept them hidden.  It was the only way he knew to express his pain and lonliness and broken heart.
    
    
    
                    Spring became Summer.  The weather grew warmer.  Hot during the day, with warm often breezy nights.  Warm rain showers appeared nearly every afternoon.   This was Frodo's favorite time of day.  He loved nothing more than to sit and watch the storm, nestled in Sam's arms.  This one, though, grew in intensity, with howling wind and cracks of thunder.  Frodo closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself well and strong again.  Back in Bag End, sitting before a roaring fire, with Sam's arms round him.
                    But, no, if he were home there would be no loving arms, no quiet words of affection,  no kisses.  That sort of thing was not proper.  Especially between a master and servant.  Especially when one was so much older.  But, it felt so good, so sweet and so right.  Frodo smiled, he liked this world.
                    Merry pushed his studies aside with the first peal of thunder.  He stood and went to the window, watching the rain for a bit.  There had been storms like this in the Shire.  He and Pippin always seemed to get caught out in them.  His mind wandered back to one particular time when they had hidden in someone's abandoned shed.  The shed was drafty and leaking.  He remembered how they had huddled close together.  He remembered how the rain smelled and how it mingled with the scent of wet Pippin.  How that  scent was so intoxicating.  A kiss, not their first.  Touching.  Stroking.  
                    Merry sighed and rested his forehead on the window, "We made love to each other for the first time."   Love.  He had promised, so long ago, to love Pippin and to protect him.  "I haven't even seen him for weeks."  Merry worried now.  "Pippin."  and turned and left his apartment.  Left to find Pippin.
    
                    Merry went to Pippin's apartment.  It was smaller than his own, just a small sitting room, a bedroom and bath.  The sitting room was unused, deserted and rather sterile looking.  The bedroom, though, was a different story.  There were books of sketches, and several journals lying about.  Merry flipped through one of the sketch books.  He always knew Pippin had a talent for drawing, and these were very good indeed.  But the subject mater was quite disturbing.  Monsters. Trolls, Orcs.  Death scenes. Scenes of torture. Twisted, ruined bodies.  And one of a   hobbit sitting huddled in a corner with blood running down his arms.  Merry closed the book and wiped tears away, "Oh, Pippin, what have I done?"  Then called out, "Pippin!!"  
                    No answer.
                    Merry ran out into the hallway, looking desperately up and down.  He decided to see if Pippin was with Frodo and Sam.
                    But, he wasn't.  They had seen him a few hours ago.  He had sat and held Frodo's hand.  Never said a word until he left.  "Good bye, cousin.'  He had smiled then.  
                    Merry's chest and throat constricted with fear, "Frodo, you don't think?  You don't think he'd do anything, do you?"
                    "You mean do himself harm?"  Sam asked, "Well, his heart's been broke awful bad, if you don't mind me sayin." There was an edge to Sam's voice and it cut Merry deep. "And Pippin is young and tending to the dramatic.  I think it may be possible."
                    Merry jumped to his feet, "I've got to find him!"
                    "Now, wait."  Sam said firmly, "You won't find him just running round yelling!  This palace is huge and he could be anywhere.  We need help if we're gonna search..."
                    Sam was interrupted by the chirruping of  the comlink on his work clothes.
                    "Sam?  Apollo here."
                    "Yeah, doc?"
                    "Do you know where Merry is?"
                    "I'm here."  Merry said.
                    "Good.  I think you all should come down here.  Apollo out."
                    The three hobbits looked at each other.  Then Frodo got slowly to his feet, "Come on."  he said.  Sam offered his arm and the three of them went down to Sick Bay.
    
    
    
                    Apollo was sitting in his office with a tall glass and a bottle.  He came out when he saw the three hobbits,  "The guards found him on their rounds."  the doctor said, "He was lying in the corner of one the roof gardens, in the rain, with this,"   Apollo took a short bladed knife out of his pocket, "lying beside him.  He'd cut himself up pretty bad.  He'll be all right physically.  Oh, Merry, this was addressed to you."  he handed Merry a folded piece of paper.
                    The note was written in the common tongue of the Shire.  Merry was shaking too hard to read it, so Frodo took it and read, "Dear Merry, I miss you so much.  I can't stop thinking of all the fun we used to have.  How we used to pinch Farmer Maggot's crops.  That night at Bilbo's party and Gandalf caught us with the fireworks.  I think I fell in love with you when I was three years old.  I miss your face smiling at me.  I miss feeling safe and secure.  I remember that time when you made love to me in that old shed, and the other time out under the stars.  Only twice.  I've tried to be strong and gown up, but I just can't without you.  There is no place for me without you.  I just can't bear it any longer.  I'm sorry.  I love you.  Pippin."
                    There were tears running down Frodo's face when he finished reading.  Sam wiped his own eyes and sniffed.  Merry was sobbing, "Oh, Doc!  Where is he?  Can I see him?"
                    Apollo put a comforting arm over Merry's shoulders, "Come on.  Dry your eyes.  That's not what he needs.  He needs his friend and lover from the Shire."
                    Merry wiped his eyes, "We only did it twice.  I shouldn't have let it happen at all.  He was so young."
                    Apollo nodded, "No need to explain, son."
                    But Merry went on, "Hobbits don't come of age until we're 33.  He was only 25 the first time.  Just a child still."
                    "Omnies come of age at 28." Apollo said, "And the age of sexual consent is 22."
                    Sam looked shocked, "Twenty-two!"
                    Apollo smiled, "Go to him, Merry."
    
    
    
                    Pippin was lying on a bed in the middle of the room.  Covered in a light blanket and wearing a white gown.  He looked so peaceful and so young.  In Merry's eyes he looked liked a young child again.  Merry bent and kissed his forehead, "I'm sorry, Pippin."  he whispered.
                    Bright green eyes opened   slowly, "Merry?"
                    "Yes, Pip, I'm here and I'll never leave you again.  Not ever.  I love you, my sweet baby."  Merry was crying, stroking the  soft red/gold curls, "I was so wrong to leave you alone.  Can you ever forgive me?"
                    "I'm not a baby."  Pippin said.  
                    And Merry smiled, "Oh, but you are.  You're my special baby because I want to love you and protect you and keep you close for ever and ever."
                    "What about your studying?"
                    "Bugger it.  You're more important.  Let the Omnies find Middle Earth if they can.  I don't care any more.  So long.'s I have you, I'm home."
                    "Oh, Merry."   Pippin sobbed out.
                    And Merry lifted and hugged him tight, "Fool of a Took!"
    

For the rest of that Summer, into the Autumn and Winter, they were simply Merry and Pippin again. The instructors and tutors shook their heads in dismay at "the waste of such genius." But Merry was happy just to be with Pippin. To play again, to run free again. They had many adventures in the woods behind the Gardens. They went in Merry's little red flyer to the City, but not often. And one breezy Autumn afternoon they made love in a pile of leaves, imagining themselves back in the Shire. Merry could almost hear Pippin's sister calling, "Peregrin Took! Where in blazes are you?" And Pippin sighed and whispered, "I'm here, Vinca, under my Merry. Where I belong." 

End of Part Two


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The usual homage to our god Tolkien
    
    
                    The palace grounds were covered in a thick mantle of sparkling snow.  Huge flakes drifting down in the silence of a Winter's night.  The Winter Ball had passed, and Yule was approaching.  It was Frodo's first Yule celebration and he was enjoying every minute of it.  The decorations of green and gold.  The  blazing fires, even if they weren't real.  The abundance of food and drink.  The songs and dancing almost every night.  He even attended the Fellowship's Celebration of Thanksgiving, where he was guest of honor.  
                    Sam was very happy to see his master grow in strength and start to act like himself again.  He was no longer so desperately needy, and did not cry and cling to Sam so hard.  Apollo still came each night, but he said he was slowly decreasing the drug.  A few more months and Frodo would not need the shots at all.  
                    The four hobbits were now a tight knit family.  Encouraged by the king to share the customs of the Shire, and keep their culture alive.  They introduced the custom of the Yule Tree with it's bright decorations and Elbreth's Star on top, and the gifts piled underneath.   A custom His Majesty adopted that very winter and soon spread among his subjects.    
                    All seemed well and happy that Yule as Frodo nestled in Sam's arms before the roaring fire and smiled at Merry and Pippin curled together in a chair. 
    
                    Apollo was humming aYuletide tune as he walked down the hall toward the silver doors.  He carried the syringe on it's customary silver tray, the lavender liquid glittering under the lights.   The formula was halved.  And halved again.  This injection should not bother Frodo at all.  A little pinch, a momentary sting.   Just another couple of weeks and Frodo would be free.
                    The Guards snapped attention as Apollo approached.  The doctor smiled, "Good evening, lads, and Merry Yule to you."
                    "Merry Yule to you, sir."  the senior guard answered.
                    The silver doors slid aside and Ary was there to greet the visitor, "Good evening, doctor.  Lord Adrial is with his family, sir."  Ary gestured toward the sitting room..  "I have already prepared his bed."  Ary said, eyeing the syringe.
                    Apollo grinned and waved his hand in dismissal, "No more need for that, Ary."     
    
                    The hobbits all smiled at Apollo's arrival.  Friendly greetings and Yule wishes were exchanged.  Then Frodo sighed, "Must I go to bed, Apollo?"
                    "No, my boy, not this time.  Just give me your hip."  
                    Frodo pushed his waistband down to expose his hip.
                    The injection was delivered swiftly, almost painlessly.
                    "Won't be too long before these are over and done with, Frodo."  Apollo said as he took a seat, "Then I will need a new excuse to visit."
                    Frodo smiled, "Doctor, you are always welcome."
                    "We should make him an honorary hobbit." Pippin suggested.
                    There was general agreement and Frodo said, "Very well."  He sat up and cleared his throat importantly, "Apollo Moongold, son of....?"
                    Apollo frowned breifly,  "Junus." he smiled.
                    "Apollo Moongold, son of Junus, of Omicron7Delta, is hereby this day delared to be a brother and a hobbit of the Shire."
                    Merry, Pippin and Sam stood and shouted, "Huzzah!"
                    Laughing, Frodo called , "Wine!"
                    Merry, hugging Pippin, countered with, "Ale!"
                    "Ale!"  Pippin and Sam seconded.  
                    "Alright.  Ale!"  Frodo gave in.  
    
    
    
                    Tag looked anxiously at his older brother.
                    "I will serve our Lord's wishes, Tag."  Ary said, "You must report to Chronos.  Tell him Apollo plans to end the injections."
                    Tag nodded and quickly left.  
                    Ary took the tray and carried it in to the sitting room.
    
    
    
                    Chronos had been inspecting the Council (what Omnies call their church) making sure all was in readiness for the Yule Celebrations when Tag came running in.  He stopped, though, before the alter to make the sign and bow.  "Your Holiness."  he then said.
                    Chronos looked at him, "Why are you not serving or Lord?"
                    "Forgive me, sir.  My brother waits upon Lord Adrial.  He has sent me to tell you.."
                    "Yes?"  Chronos stepped down from the high alter, "Has the drug started to take effect?"
                    "Not that we can tell, sir."  Tag said, "But, it isn't likely to."
                    "Oh?"  Chronos frowned, "And why is that?"
                    "Dr. Apollo said he will stop the injections in a week or so."  Tag told him.
                    Chronos looked decidedly upset, "He cannot do that!  Cutting it off will kill the Ringbearer!  We must step up the dose,  results must be achieved quickly!"
                    "Or Apollo told?"  Tag tried to offer an alternative, "Is it not true, sir, that once you have taken Blade, you cannot stop?"
                    Chronos nodded, "You are quite right, Tag.  Then we shall do both. Where  Is the doctor now?"
                    "With our Lord, sir."
                    "Return to your service, Tag, you have done well."
    
    
    
                    It was after midnight when Apollo returned to his apartment.  
                    Chronos was waiting for him.  Sitting there in the dark by the window.  Apollo turned with a start, "What are you doing in here?"  he gasped.
                    "We have business, you and I, doctor."  Chronos said smoothly.
                    "I have no business with the like of you, Chronos!"  Apollo folded his arms across his chest, "And I ask you, with all due respect, to leave."
                    The Archbishop waved his hand, "Sit down, doctor.  I think you should hear me out.  I know you are fond of the Ringbearer."
                    Apollo sat down opposite Chronos, "I am fond of all four hobbits."
                    "Be that as it may,  I must make a confession in this first hour of Yule.  For is not this the hour of confessions, dreams, and wishes?"  Chronos smiled and it made Apollo's skin crawl. "What is it you've been giving the Bearer?"
                    Suspicious, Apollo said, "He was suffering from Violet Fever.  I had the computer mix up a special drug.  It had to be delivered by injection."
                    Chronos nodded, "Violet Fever is an old disease, isn't it?  One of those organisms we have become immune to?  One that could have been deadly to the aliens?  I wonder, doctor, how you came to have the right drug ready just as it was needed?"
                    "I detected the organism during a routine medical check.  It was  present in all 4 of the hobbits, but only Frodo got sick.  And that, Chronos is only because he was already weakened from a wound sustained before he was taken."
                    "My gratitude to you, doctor.  You saved Adrial's life.  But, now, you are withdrawing the drug?"  Chronos  asked.
                    Apollo shook his head, "I am weaning him off of it."
                    "Not a smart idea."
                    "Why?  It's just a mixture of antibiotics and vitamins...a mild sedative.  What do you know about it, anyway?"
                    "I know that is not what you have been giving him.  At least not for the  passed two months..."
                    "What?"  Apollo leaned forward.
                    Chronos looked out the window at the softly falling snow, "Do you know what Blade is, doctor?"
                    Apollo sat back, "It's the street name for Dexamathorphine Hydrochloride."
                    "The so-called Youth Drug of the mid 21st Century.  People lost weight, as was the fashion of the time, became youthful, lived as if they were perpetually 23 well into their 90's and beyond."   Chronos said, "But at a terrible price.  Addiction.  Madness.  Other changes."
                    Apollo frowned, "Not to mention the convulsions, nausea, copious vomiting, kidney failure,  heart problems.  People who took it died anyway.  A slower and more painful death than old age.  It has been long banned.  The formula does not exist any..."
                    Chronos cut him off, "Yes, it does.  I found it in an old history.  An old book of paper, hidden well away in the cellars.  I wrote it down as best I could for the words were faded and the paper yellowed and brittle.  I gave it to that young doctor who took your place while you visited family.  Dr. Selene?  Very dedicated to the Council she was.  Very pious.  She was happy to input the formula.  That's the wonderful thing about the young, Apollo, they are so ignorant of history's lessons.  She was so honored to give it, too.  Felt it was some sort of sacrament to plunge that needle in Adrial's flesh.  Although, I must confess my copying was a bit, shall we say, off?  She had to make some corrections.  Some additions.  I believe one of the additions was estrogen?  Quite a bit of it, too."
                      Apollo said through clenched teeth, "What?!"
                    "Dear Dr. Selene had to delete the medication you had been giving the Beaerer to make room for the new formula.  When you punched in your healing elixir, the computer dispensed Blade.  You have been giving Blade, doctor, for the passed two months."  Chronos said evenly.
                    Apollo buried his face in his hands and groaned, "No!"
    
    
    
                    "This is the night for confessions.  Dreams. And wishes."  Frodo whispered.  They were lying in the big bed, close together.  Frodo's head resting on Sam's shoulder, an arm draped across his chest. "What is yours, Sam?"
                    Sam sighed contentedly, "My confession is I love you.  My dream is lying here in my arms.  My wish is that we stay together always."  Beautiful words well planned, well rehearsed.  Sam ment what he said, but there was more.  More wishes, more dreams.  Dreams he had held for as long as he could remember.  Wishes for a comely wife, a house full of beautiful babies.  Wishes incompatible with his deep love for Frodo.  This breathtaking creature he now held in his arms.  Sam was grateful for this.  He knew in his heart of hearts that were they still Home, he would not be holding Frodo like this.  Or kissing him.  Holding.  Kissing.  Cuddling.  That was all.  Never any more.  Sam dreamed of more, of touching Frodo like a lover.  Kissing him everywhere.  But, he would not push, or demand.  That just was not in Samwise Gamgee.  So he hugged, and kissed, and cuddled, and sought more lascivious pleasures elsewhere.
                    "What are yours, me dear?"  Sam whispered, stroking Frodo's hair.
                    Frodo was silent for a bit, then said, "My confession, Sweet Sam, is that I have always loved you and I always will.  My dream is this:  that we go home and live in Bag End together, just the two of us."  He smiled softly, "Happily ever after to the end of our days."
                    "And your wish?"  Sam encouraged.
                    " That you kiss me, and send me to sleep."  Frodo raised his head and looked into Sam's eyes.
                    Sam's breath caught as he stared into those deep blue pools. He granted his love's wish and they settled back.
                    "Good night, my love."  Sam said softly.  He touched Frodo's cool, soft hand and held it.  His last memory before sleep took him was of their fingers twining together.
    

Apollo woke the next morning in his own bed, but fully dressed and quite hung over. He managed to dial up the right drugs and soon felt his head beginning to clear. But with that came the memory of his conversation with Chronos. And, with that, came an over powering wave of guilt and panic. He had been giving Frodo Blade for at least two months. Blade heavily laced with Omnie estrogen. No wonder Frodo was acting strangely of late. The doctor's mind whirled "Maybe I could gradually add testosterone? From another hobbit? Oh, Adrial, what was Frodo's level before all this? I must look it up! And his current estrogen level? Blood test! That's the ticket! Routine blood test! That's what I'll tell him." he groaned, "What if....what if there have been physical changes? How is one of our hormones, estrogen yet!, effecting him? And how much has he really gotten?" Apollo dragged himself up, "Can't do anything about it today, no. It's Yule Day." 
    
    
                    Frodo stood clutching his robe close about him as Tag prepared the bath.  Flower scented bubbles rose up with the steam, and clean white towels were being laid out.  White.  Everything was white.  White and silver.  The tunic, pants, and robes he was to wear today were white.  "I want to wear green today, Tag."  Frodo said firmly, "Take these things away.  Green and gold."
                    Tag looked shocked, "Sir?"
                    "You heard me!  Green and gold.  Something...something...prettier."  Frodo faltered a bit, "With some trim  here and here."  He pointed to his wrists and neck.  Then softer, "Please?"
                    Tag bowed and gathered up the white robes, "As my Lord wishes.  Shall I send Master Samwise in, sir?"
                    Frodo's eyes grew wide and he had to fight to keep the panic out of his voice, "No!  No, thank you, I can manage.  Please?  I'd like to just...relax...a bit?"
                    Another bow, "As you wish, My Lord."  and Tag left.
                    Alone now, Frodo stood before the mirror and let the robe fall away.  His eyes were cast down, looking steadily at the reflection of his feet.  Good, sturdy hobbit feet.  Soft   dark hair on his feet, thinner on his shins, and bare thighs.  He took the time to study his male parts closely,  to touch himself there.   Because what came next was quite disturbing.  He had always been slender and soft, not big and muscular like Sam.  Not strong like Merry, or wiry like Pippin.  Just slender, by hobbit standards, soft skinned and not very strong. But he had always been built like a male.  Now, as he gazed at his reflection,  he could see it.  Quite discernible, at least to Frodo, was the narrowing of his waist. Or was it the slight spreading of his hips?  Was that why his joints hurt?  To Frodo these things were very obvious.  But, the worst was yet to come!
                    Lifting his eyes, he finally looked at his chest.  Smooth and hairless as always, but there was a difference. Hesitantly, he ran his hand over his chest and felt them..  No more than barely discernible swellings.  Like a young girl who was just beginning to blossom into a woman.  With a groan, Frodo turned from the mirror and slid carefully into the tub.  "What is happening to me/"  he wiped tears away but it did no good.   He could not help the sobs that followed.
                    The hand falling softly on his shoulder startled Frodo. He let out a little squeak and turned.."Sam!"
                    "Why are you crying, love?"  Sam's voice full of worry.
                    Frodo sank lower into the water, "I'm all right, Sam."  he sniffed.
                    Sam picked up the sponge and soaped it, "You know I don't believe you.  Here, let your Sam help.  I brought in your clothes.  Green and gold like you wanted."  Sam sponged Frodo's back. "Even  back home you always liked it when I washed your back. You always liked for me to touch you.  Lately, you haven't let me...."
                    Frodo folded his arms across his chest, trying to hide the new little bumps.  He bowed his head, "I'm sorry, Sam.  I do still find comfort in your touch."  He looked up all dewy eyed, "Honestly."
                    Sam frowned, "I know that look well enough, Frodo Baggins.  You're trying to hide something from me."  He smiled though and placed a soft kiss on Frodo's lips, "But, I loves you, weather or no."  He stood and dried his hands, "I'll send Ary and Tag in to help you dress.  His Majesty's made lots of plans for today, my love."    
                    Sam left the room and sat down to wait, and to think.  It was starting to bother him the way Frodo was so suddenly shy about his body.  Sam  thought he'd gotten over that years ago at least as far as Sam was concerned.  What was Frodo hiding?  Why was he all of a sudden so bashful?
                    All those thoughts vanished, however, when Frodo stood before him. Ever since he had first laid eyes on Frodo so many years ago Sam had thought him beautiful. Now he was breathtaking!  Pants and shirt of green under a long velvet robe trimmed intricately in gold.  Pink lips parted in a little smile.  Luminous blue eyes looking down at him.  Sam stood slowly and touched the soft dark curls that now tumbled well passed Frodo's shoulders.  The face seemed softer somehow, more effeminate.  Sam put that to a trick of the lighting as he kissed the sweet lips.  
                    "I do so love you, Frodo, me dearest."  Sam whispered.
                    Frodo smiled, "I love you, too, Sam."  And hugged his neck.
                    For a moment Sam thought of carrying Frodo into the bedroom, laying him on the bed, and making love to him.  He thought of all the things he'd like to do to his love.  But it was not to be.  Not now at any rate.   The King was waiting.  
                    Sam offered his arm.  Frodo took it.  And they walked out into the corridor.
    

Later in the day, after the Formal Breakfast and the Exchange of Gifts, there was time to rest before the evening and the Yuletide Ball. Sam, Merry and Pippin collapsed in a happy pile on the bed. Too exausted to even notice that Frodo had left them. 

End of Part Three


End file.
